Because of the Colour of the Wheat Fields

La Siesta (after Millet) - Vincent Van Gogh (1890)

It is common knowledge, among the people who know me well, that The Little Prince holds a very special place in my heart (see this post). I read it regularly, and every time something new and different strikes me. The Little Prince is a treasure chest of truths about life, the human experience, friendship and love. Let me share briefly some thoughts I've had about the book lately.

The people in my world are constantly moving, both literally and figuratively. Moving away, moving back, moving farther, moving closer. Perhaps it's because of this day and age, or perhaps it's an eagerness to see, taste, and experience more and more, to push the limits of the known and attain the sea of possibilities that lies beyond, deep inside of us.

I, too, am always moving. On the one hand, it's a beautiful thing to see the world, to stretch your horizons, to step out of your comfort zone, to learn and grow beyond what you could have ever imagined. On the other hand, it sometimes becomes exhausting and burdensome to feel uprooted and have to start anew, in all areas of life, all the time.

One particular area where moving can hurt the most is friendship. Movement fosters creating new relationships because of (1) an increased exposure to new people, and (2) the necessity to make new relationships to 'survive' in society. From a sea of unfamiliar faces, some eventually emerge that have meaning. From an abstract mess of colour and texture emerge figures which our brain can recognise and make associations with.

You're given a geographic location, and a limited amount of time, and relationships happen. You find kindred spirits, invest your time and mind in them, and clothe your heart with shared moments and memories. It's a delightful phenomenon, to see the foreign become familiar, to tame that which was wild.

Oh, but when you leave your friends, or when your friends leave you, your heart is stripped of its clothes, laid bare again. Cold, vulnerable, and alone. What has been given can't be returned, and it feels like sweet, sweet theft. It sometimes feels like the pain of losing someone you're attached to, and having to start all over again, outweighs the benefits of having developed that friendship. What good is it to create something valuable, only to see it go away?

In the midst of moving, moving again, and moving one more time over the past few months, I genuinely asked myself that question. And in the midst of my reflections, I remembered my favourite passage in the Little Prince, the long dialogue between the fox and the Little Prince.

When they first meet, the fox asks the little prince to become his friend:

"My life is very monotonous," the fox said. "I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat...

The fox then explains that relationships require investment and energy--the fox and the little prince cannot be friends right away, but must 'tame' each other.

So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near--
"Ah," said the fox, "I shall cry."
"It is your own fault," said the little prince. "I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted me to tame you . . ."
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"But now you are going to cry!" said the little prince.
"Yes, that is so," said the fox.
"Then it has done you no good at all!"
"It has done me good," said the fox, "because of the colour of the wheat fields."

I was very inspired by this--the pain is worthwhile, because the gain is that that which was meaningless, is now meaningful. Even when people you have invested yourself in are physically removed from you, tokens from your shared experience are permanent and everywhere in your daily, tangible life. There is now beauty, savour and substance in what was bland, ordinary and hollow. And it has done you good.

Singing In The Rain, or ''How Great Thou Art''

Cliffs at Pourville, Rain, Claude Monet, 1896

About an hour ago, I was calmly sitting outside reading when a storm suddenly broke. I heard thunder and saw lightning as it started pouring rain. It was a big storm.

As I was watching the thunderstorm from the garage, I was very impressed by all the strength and power of the natural elements on display. I automatically started thinking about God.

All I could do was to watch, to appreciate, to admire. At that moment, I was just so aware of my powerlessness as a human being. We humans are not even close to understanding all the complexity of how the universe works. The fallibility of our knowledge in that area is made obvious by the fact that we cannot even predict the weather very well based on observation.

As I was observing the storm, I couldn't help but praise the Creator for his strength, beauty and magnificence. That was a great reminder that he is in power, and I am not. I am so small, helpless and flawed. Strangely, in his greatness, God cares about me. He who created the earth, the stars and the sun wants to be in touch with humans, whom he made in his image.


I was then reminded of an old hymn, How Great Thou Art. When I was younger, I was not very fond of old hymns because I thought the melodies were not catchy enough and there were way too many stanzas. Now that I'm older, however, I am learning to appreciate the hymns more and more and see them as hidden treasures. 


Here are the verses that came to my mind as I was watching the storm:

O Lord my God, when I in awesome wonder

Consider all the works thy hands have made

I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder

Thy power throughout the universe displayed

Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to thee

How great thou art, How great thou art

In that moment, these words came alive to me like never before. It seemed that the hymn perfectly translated my thoughts into words.

When the storm was over, I did some research about How Great Thou Art, and found that it was originally a Swedish poem written by Carl Gustav Boberg in the 19th century. Here is how the song came to be:

Carl Boberg and some friends were returning home to Mönsterœs from Kronoböck, where they had participated in an afternoon service. Nature was at its peak that radiant afternoon. Presently a thundercloud appeared on the horizon, and soon sharp lightning flashed across the sky. Strong winds swept over the meadows and billowing fields of grain. The thunder pealed in loud claps. Then rain came in cool fresh showers. In a little while the storm was over, and a rainbow appeared.

 When Boberg arrived home, he opened the window and saw the bay of Mšnsterœslike a mirror before him… From the woods on the other side of the bay, he heard the song of a thrush…the church bells were tolling in the quiet evening. It was this series of sights, sounds, and experiences that inspired the writing of the song. (Retreived here)

I think it's very interesting how this song was written after a storm, which perhaps explains why I thought of it during a storm. It's fascinating to think that we can have similar thoughts about God in similar situations.


It's sunny outside, now.

Enclosed Fields with Rising Sun, Van Gogh, 1889

Paintings That Fascinate Me

Here are some paintings I find fascinating. I could  write about each of them and explain why I find them captivating and moving, but I don't want to corrupt your interpretation of the paintings with mine.


Starry Night (De sterrennacht) - Van Gogh, 1889

The Kiss (Der Kuss) - Gustav Klimt, 1907

London, Houses of Parliament. The Sun Shining Through the Fog (Londres, le Parlement. Trouée de soleil dans le brouillard) - Claude Monet, 1904.

American Gothic - Grant Wood, 1930

The Two Princes Edward and Richard in the Tower - John Everett Millais, 1878

What do these paintings evoke in you?

On Being Young, Traveling and Escapism

Luncheon of the Boating Party, Renoir, 1881

I decided on the title of this article before I even started writing it. I wonder if the article is necessary at all; "Being young, traveling and escapism" sums up everything I have to say. (After a thorough reflection on this matter, however, I came to the conclusion that summarizing is what titles are for, and so I should still write this article).

I am not writing about being young in general, but about being a young adult in Western society. It seems that in this society, there is a transitory stage between the teenage years and "full adulthood."

In some other parts of the world, people get married and start having children earlier than in the West. In 2009, the age at first marriage in the United States was of 28 years for men and 26.5 years for women. In Germany, it was of 33 years for men and 30 years for women. (Source: UNECE)

Now, this post is not an analysis of marriage trends. I do think, however, that getting married and having kids is related to the topic of being young, travelling and escapism. When you get married and have kids, you usually start to settle down.

As a North American, when I think of being young, I think about a certain Western conception of being young and a student:

1.       Graduate from high school, and take a gap year to travel the world (or go straight into university).

2.       In university, have a part-time job. Make a couple grants a year, and travel in the summer.

3.       Do a semester abroad

4.       Repeat steps 2 and 3 until graduation.

5.       If you graduate and still don’t know what you want to do in life, do a Master’s degree.

6.       Repeat steps 2 and 3 until graduation.

I admit this was a little extreme! Mea culpa. This sequence of events was meant to be caricatural. I am aware that a lot of students do not have the money to do all this, and many do not choose this path.

There is some truth in my caricature, nonetheless. Many students work during the year and travel in the summer, and many do semesters abroad.

I would venture to say that this is a relatively new phenomenon: students nowadays are richer and more comfortable than their parents, it seems.  And they travel more.

Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris, Frederick Childe Hassam, 1888

Why do young people travel?

The quick answer is: "To see the world!"

And it is true. We live in an integrated and cosmopolitan world; reading about other nations and cultures is not enough to satisfy the thirst of our curiosity. And even seeing is not enough: We have to go, feel, touch, taste, live.

The second quick answer is: "Because we can!"

The World is becoming more and more accessible to students. Universities make it easier for their students to go study in another country for a couple of months. And although in debt, students are willing to spend money on traveling.

I’m wondering if there is another reason why young adults travel, or want to travel so much. I do believe the reason sometimes is escapism.

Escapism is probably one of my favourite words in the whole world. I like the way it sounds, the way it looks on paper, and the idea it conveys. But let’s rationalize and look at what this word actually means:

Merriam-Webster: Habitual diversion of the mind to purely imaginative activity or entertainment as an escape from reality or routine.

Oxford: The tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy.

Traveling is not included in the definitions above, but my idea is that it can become a form of escapism. But escapism from what?

How would I know? Different people want to get away from different things.

Even if there is nothing in particular we wish to escape from, traveling gives us the opportunity to escape from our familiar environment and routine. Everything abroad is exciting, because it is new.

Traveling provides the novelty and excitement we sometimes cannot experience as much in our normal environment. 

The people are friendlier. The food is better. The buildings are nicer. The nature is more beautiful.

Life is better.

For the time our travel lasts, life is amazing. It seems like we live life at its fullest: we make the most of every smell and taste.

The days seem to last forever, and it’s like our entire life is on hold.

Every day is the fulfilment of a dream.

We are so fully human. 

Cafe Terrace at Night, Van Gogh, 1888

It never lasts. Ultimately, the trip comes to an end, and we return home, though we’re not sure where home is anymore. It seems to me that coming home is always hard. Everything seems to be not-as-good-as-it-was-there-and-then. We become intolerant to the usual, the typical. Life could be so much more than what we know!

And the only solution to this First World problem is to go traveling again.

I think that Robert Louis Stevenson put it well when he wrote: ''For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move'' (Travels with a donkey in the Cévennes, 1879). 

In my opinion, this is what traveling is about for many young people nowadays.

Whether or not we are conscious of it, escapism is probably one of the reasons why traveling is so amazing, and so addictive. Escapism is not bad in itself! It can be very positive.

My concluding thought is more of a question: I wonder how the culture of traveling will influence this generation in the long term. I wonder if this generation will ever be able to be satisfied and settle down, or if it simply never will.